


A Living Weapon

by Aida_Trevelyn



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: F/M, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Kissing, Lyrium Brands, M/M, POV First Person, Relationship(s), Slavery, Smut, Tevinter Imperium
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-06
Updated: 2017-07-25
Packaged: 2018-09-29 20:24:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 11
Words: 11,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10143281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aida_Trevelyn/pseuds/Aida_Trevelyn
Summary: Fenris' story told from his POV, starting in Tevinter as a teenager, then heading to Seheron as a young adult and finally continuing to Kirkwall, and his subsequent relationship with mage Alya Hawke.





	1. Miranthous

**Author's Note:**

> Mad props to my beta HQuinn! You have really helped me make this awesome!

**Ch. 1: Miranthous**

 

I was born as a elven slave in Miranthous, in 9:05 Dragon during the month of Pluitanis, also known as Guardian in the Southern Andrastian calendar. Miranthous is the capital and largest city in not just the Imperium but also all of Thedas. It used to be the captain of the entirety of the world when the Imperium ruled everything, and has been around for over a thousand  years. Miranthous is one of the busiest port cities in Thedas, with merchants coming in from all over the world. The city has stood the test of time, and survived many invasions from the prophetess Andraste, a darkspawn horde, an Exalted March from the South of Thedas and the Qunari. Not one of these groups was able to capture it.

The Forum is the center of the city and all the important buildings of the city radiate from this point. People have been meeting here since the founding of Miranthous. It is the place to do business, see friends, update yourself on the latest news and gossip of the day, and go to school if you were lucky enough to do so. The Imperial Highway starts here and extends all the way through Thedas. Though the Tevinter magisters are predominantly human, there is a large slave population of elves and humans brought in from all over Thedas. There is also a sizable Dwarven population due to them being one of the primary builders and merchants in the city.

The Forum is home to the Dwarven Ambassadoria, which was said to have been built for an ancient Dwarven king by Darinius, the first Archon and founder of the Imperium. The Grand Proving Arena is one of the main forms of entertainment for Tevinters, and is located right off the Forum. It was built by the dwarves, and is one of the oldest structures in Miranthous. Its terraced gardens on the exterior of the building can be seen from pretty much anywhere in the capital. This enormous amphitheater is home to gladiatorial combat between primarily slaves and some freedmen, wild animal fights, and epic sea battles.

The Argent Spire, the seat of the so-called “Black Divine” by the people of Southern Thedas, is the religious center of the Imperium. The split between the Northern and Southern Divines stem from about six hundred years ago when the Tevinters decided they would rather have their own Chantry and split from the main Andrastian Chantry, and appointed a mage as the Divine, who also happens to be an Enchanter in the Circle of Mages. The point of contention was their view towards mages, namely that the Northern Divine does not view mages as the spawn of all evil, like the Southern Andrastians. The best way to handle magic, according to the Tevinter Divine, was to allow mages to become part of the government and “serve the greater good.” The people value mages across all classes in Tevinter, and not just in the nobility. Unlike those heathens in the South, our Divine has always been male. There are some who still worship the Old Gods, but their temples are pretty well-hidden and it is not talked about in polite society.

The towers of the Circle of Magi, the second oldest buildings in the Imperium, can be seen across the entire city. It used to be a Temple dedicated to Razikale, an Old God from the early days of the Imperium, who endorsed the ancient magisters who attempted to breach the Golden City in the Fade. Their imposing structures dominate the landscape, which makes sense as it is the magisters who really rule the city. Blood magic is the element of power and it is used everywhere, though usually behind closed doors. If you want to gain and maintain power in the Imperium, you will have to use it. Magic is what holds the city together, literally, as it has had one thousand years to crumble. Because of the view of magic in the Imperium, the Circle of Magi in Minrathous has become a great center of learning and study.

Slavery is a big deal in the Tevinter Imperium, and has been pretty much since its inception. The Free Marches city of Kirkwall used to the the seat of the Slave Trade for the Imperium starting fifteen hundred years ago, until the slaves revolted nine hundred years ago, and the power was transferred to a Viscount who still rule the city today. Dwarves are rarely, if ever made slaves, probably because they have too much power and influence in the city as merchants and lyrium suppliers. Elven slaves have existed since their homeland was destroyed by the Imperium. As a result, the Tevinter slave owners look down on elven slaves in particular, calling us “rattus” and cowards. Slavery was briefly abolished by one of the early Archons, but with the possibility of losing millions of gold pieces, the practice was re-established and the Archon was assassinated.

 

As I said before, I had always been a slave. I was the eldest of two children, which included myself and my younger sister Varania, three years my junior. My parents were never allowed to marry and I never knew who my father was. Our mother was a talented seamstress and therefore in high demand in the households of the Tevinter merchants and businessmen. We had several owners by the time I was fifteen, so I spent a fair amount of time in the Slave Market in the Forum. While being show in a loincloth only, or less, to ensure our quality and having our teeth checked as though we were livestock, I can remember standing with my sister and mother the summer of my fifteenth year next to our current master’s stall along with two or three other of his slaves up for auction.

Our current owner was a wealthy clothing merchant whose shop was right off the Forum. Mother sewed most of clothing, along with about ten other elven women, while Varania was a household slave for the master’s personal home. I cleaned up the shop and delivered purchased clothing to various households around the city. I was put on the revolving block soon after we arrived at the Market with a tituli around my neck, displaying my strengths and weaknesses. I was just started my growth spurt and although elves are never very tall in stature, I was already showing signs that I would be taller than most of them. I, like my mother and sister, was olive skinned with black hair and mossy green eyes. My mother and sister were put in the iron cages behind me, though we were to be sold as a set.

We had not been standing there for an hour before a litter carried by four beautiful elven slave men arrived at our stall and I first caught my glimpse of the man who was to become our new master. I later learned that Danarius was one of the most powerful magisters in the Imperium, but he just looked like any other haughty noble used to getting exactly what he wanted. He was an older man in his mid-forties, with rough-hewn features as if carved from stone, blue eyes that had been washed out to grey, short grey hair and a trimmed grey beard. His clothing was richly decorated and handsomely made, in shades of black and dark blue as is the fashion. He was obviously very rich and powerful and used to getting his own way. Danarius was reclining and peeking through the curtains of his litter, absently staring at the merchandise. When his eyes alighted on me, however, his eyebrows raised. He beckoned to Almadrius, my owner, and pointed vaguely in my direction, asking how much he wanted. Almadrius was eager to make sale, especially to a magister of such renown, and only charged him three gold for my entire family. My mother, sister and I were chained together and brought over to him. Like dutiful little slaves, we all looked at the ground as we had been taught. You must never make eye contact with a master unless they request you to - I learned that early on, after several beatings from my first two masters.

“You will follow behind me and come straight to the front door of my house,” Danarius commanded in a firm voice, “And then my house steward will take you down the road to the slave baths where you will get cleaned up before you are presented to me properly.”

“Yes Master,” we reply immediately, eyes still affixed on the ground in front of us.


	2. Danarius

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We are introduced to Danarius and the world of slaves and magisters.

We took a leisurely walk back to Danarius’s villa located about a mile from the Forum in a very fashionable neighborhood. It was definitely the biggest house I’d ever seen. Like most Tevinter mansions, it is a series of squares inside of a long rectangle. I couldn’t see everything from inside the atrium when we first arrived there from the Slave Market, but I remember most of the details from my eight years after that. The front entrance leads into the atrium, where there is a large pool in the center called the impluvium, to catch the rainwater falling from an opening in the roof. The floor is covered with a large mosaic of a red dragon. On either side of the atrium are cubiculum, bedrooms for the Master and his guests. The atrium led forward to our master’s study called the tablinum, an open room with couches on one side and a desk on the other. There is a golden dragon mosaic stretching across the wall behind the desk, which is supposed to symbolize Dumat, the Dragon of Silence and the Old God of the First Blight. Even though the Old Gods are no longer worshiped (at least out in the open), the dragon is still a symbol of power in Tevinter. It is here that the Master did his daily business. 

The tablinum opened right into the house’s garden, studded with scrolled Ionic columns and an indoor greenhouse with apple, pomegranate and cherry trees. It is a large, lush semi-tropical place filled with jasmine and herbs for making potions. It also has stone benches and a fountain in the center. To the back right of the garden is the triclinium, the dining room where three lounging couches were gathered in a circle. There was a large golden mosaic on the wall of the Circle of Magi in the Forum. The room right next to that is the kitchen and the one next to that is the slaves quarters.

The steward, a pinch-faced elderly man named Aulus, hurried into the room, unlocking our chains and rushing us outside. “It’s this way,” he said in rush, obviously annoyed at having to interrupt his work to deal with us. We turn right down a side street and until it met up with another street. “The slave entrance is on the side. Here are some clothes for you to change into.” Thrusting half a sovereign into my Mother’s hands, along with two short cotton dresses and a pair of leather pants, he exclaims “This is to pay for the baths, do not lose it. Tell them you are recently bought property of Master Danarius and he wants you cleaned up properly. I will be waiting for you in the atrium.”

Mother nods her head in agreement and we enter the public baths. The main part of the bath is for men with separate areas for women. There are changing rooms for both sexes, an open-air swimming pool, and exercise rooms. And of course the three pools, with cold, warm and hot water. Massage rooms were also available. Public slaves, owned by the state, are everywhere helping the people inside the baths, as well as magisters’ personal slaves holding their owner’s clothing. As you can imagine, it was a popular place for pickpockets.

  
  
Since our master wants us to look our best, we were given cloths and rosemary soap and taken first to the cold, then warm, then hot pools to clean the grime off of us in special sections in the back of each pool just for slaves. Then we had to lay down on a massage table, where they oiled up our bodies and then scrape it off with a strigil, a curved metal tool, scraping away any remaining dirt and dead skin. Next my torso was covered with a sprinkling of bergamot oil for the smell and so my skin glistened. I put my soft leather pants on and waited for my mother and sister to finish their baths and get dressed. 

We walked back to our Master’s house and met the steward in the atrium. He takes us back to the tablinum, where Danarius is sitting at a table going through some papers on a massive mahogany desk, and announces us. The master doesn’t look up when we enter the room, but waves him away. We stand up straight looking down at our feet until he deigns to look at us after we’ve been standing long enough for my feet to stop hurting.

He asks my mother, “What are your names and what skills do you and your daughter have?”

“Sir, my name is Livia, my daughter is Varania. My daughter and I can sew quite well, spin and make clothing, cook and clean,” she replied obediently.

“And what about you?” he said, inclining his head towards me. “What’s your name?”

“Master, my name is Leto and I have done a variety of odd jobs - cleaning up, light protection duty, and running errands,” I say still looking at my feet.

“Livia, you will be assigned as the villa’s tailor and mender of clothes and other duties as needed. And Varania, you will be assigned to the kitchen. You two may go to the slave quarters for some food. Leto, you stay here,” he commands and we hurry to obey. “I want you to stand shoulder width apart with your hands behind your back, but before you do that, take off your clothes and eyes up on me.”

I quickly do as he asks, folding my clothes neatly beside me. I stare straight ahead, posing like he wants me to. “Yes, you will do nicely...very nicely,” he mutters almost to himself, but loud enough so that I can hear him. “Do you know how to fight?” he demands, still circling me.

“I have used a dagger a couple of times protecting my former masters from their house to the shops, but I’ve had no training, Master,” I reply.

“Ah then, we will change that. Starting tomorrow, you will start working with a swordmaster to train your body so that you can become my personal bodyguard.” He said, dismissing me.

I gathered my clothes, put them on, and headed to the slave quarters to be with my mother and sister. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I used this design for the basis of Danarius’s house: https://museumvictoria.com.au/education/learning-lab/ancient-roman-empire/house-of-the-vine/roman-house-architecture/


	3. Training

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fenris is trained in how to fight and wield a two-handed sword, so he can take his place as Danarius' bodyguard.

First thing the next morning I was out of bed at sunrise to start my training. There was a large outdoor garden connecting from the peristyle garden inside the villa. There was a large open space for parties and the tables and chairs were cleared to the side in order for my new swordmaster Cato to explain to me how to position my body when swinging the greatsword. Cato, a Soporati, had been teaching swordcraft for about twenty years, after spending about half of that time fighting with the Tevinter army in Seheron, the Qunari-occupied island north of the Imperium, between it and the Qunari homeland, Par Vollen. He was a large barrel-chested man with one long scar running through his left eye. One of the first things I learned was how to remain aware of my surroundings even if you aren’t aware of any attackers.

“If you notice any odd or suspicious behavior, immediately be on your guard,” Cato warned me my first day. Also, trust your ‘gut’, and what I mean by that is trust yourself to know if something doesn’t feel right. It can very well save your life.”

“Permission to speak sir?” I enquire.

“Permission granted Leto,” he responds with a small smile.

“My ears are very sensitive, I shouldn’t have a problem hearing everything going on around myself,” I simply state.

“Very true, my boy. Also you should be aware of your melee settings. What I mean by that is using your environment to the best of your advantage. Darkness can be used to conceal, but can also hide your enemies. You can blind your enemies with bright sunlight in the eyes, and natural barriers such as walls and cliffs can be used to cut off escape routes. If you’re wearing heavy armor, which you normally would be if you are wielding a greatsword, you will not be able to fight in extreme weather like snow or mud. Do you understand, Leto?” instructs Cato.

“Yes, sir,” I reply.

“One of the most important things to remember is that you must relax. Take deep breaths when swinging your sword. You will not be able to control the power needed to swing the enormous sword with great accuracy and speed if you are not focused and relaxed,” he directs me. “So first before we even pick up the sword, we will work on getting focused and relaxed. To do so, we will sit down, hands on our thighs and eyes closed. Just breathe, in and out. In your head count to ten and breathe in, then exhale for another ten,” intoned Cato.

I will admit this was not an easy thing for me to do. I was too anxious to get started to calm down and relax. But I was nothing if not obedient and so sat down on the hard ground and gently placed my hand on my thighs, and breathed in and out. I found that after a few breaths, it did calm me down. I eagerly awaited his next instruction and it wasn’t too long before he hefted himself up again, heading over to a nearby table which held two pine staffs.

“Before we can work with swords, you will need to learn how to wield this staff first. Balancing your body is incredibly important to determine how well you can parry another person’s weapon and prevent yourself from being hit as well. Keep your feet shoulder-width apart, and keep them touching the ground. You need to watch your opponent's body movements to determine how to strike them. Keep good posture and lean forward a little so that your opponent cannot topple you,” Cato explains, “And above all, don’t charge in recklessly to a fight like an idiot. That is the surest way of getting yourself killed and what good is a dead bodyguard.”

Cato and I practiced positioning our bodies the correct way, and it was a lot easier to do this with the pine staff than it would’ve been with a greatsword. This was especially true after we spent all morning and afternoon completing drills. My body ached all over, and I was completely exhausted. The only side benefit of this, aside from learning a new skill, was that I slept like the dead every night. Cato told me that I would continue this practice every day during daylight hours for the next month until I was proficient enough to wield an actual sword.

When he finally deemed I was ready, I received my first real weapon, a two handed greatsword. The first thing I had to do was get used to the weight and heft of the sword, as it was heavier than the staff I had been using previously. Swinging the weapon around my body in a circle, while controlling my breathing and adjusting my body and posture so that I did not hit myself with the blade almost became like a dance, moving from one position to another, in a smooth succession. After training with Cato and the sword for a year, I was finally able to take my place as my master Danarius’ bodyguard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sword fighting techniques taken from http://www.wikihow.com/Win-a-Swordfight and http://www.wikihow.com/Use-Any-Two-Handed-Sword.


	4. The Sniveling Social Climber

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leto meets Hadriana, one of Danarius's assistant magisters and she proceeds to torture him at every opportunity.

The summer of my seventeenth year, my master had a large and important party to attend at the Archon’s Palace. It was to be the first time I was to join him as his personal bodyguard. It was also the first time I was allowed to wear a shirt and boots, instead of the leather pants and no shoes that constituted my normal attire. I found I didn’t like the knee-high leather boots, as they didn’t allow the freedom of movement I was used to, but that was neither here nor there. My master had bought me a red sleeveless cotton shirt with gold buttons down the front, for the occasion. My teenaged body had filled out in the year I had been training and I was starting to have muscle definition on my arms and chest. I had also grown a couple of inches since my last name day, and was starting to look like a real person instead of “just a jumble of arms and legs”, like my mother liked to say.

My master put on his finest and most expensive outfit, the midnight blue fitted tailcoat with silver ribbon on the edges, black satin pants underneath, and black leather boots. Danarius gets into his litter to be taken by his older elven slaves to the palace, as I jog alongside.  The Archon’s Palace is located at the heart of Minrathous, right off the Forum and behind the Circle of Magi. It is a mighty stone fortress made from Vol Dorman white marble, which glitters in the sun when the light bounces off it. There are four large towers at each of the four corners and two smaller towers in-between those and the front, back and side entrances. At the front corner, is a former Temple dedicated to Andoral, the Old God who was the Dragon of Slaves, which the Archon had redone as his own personal study and where he received his daily petitioners. The extensive palace kitchens were behind that on the left side. The Archon’s personal living area on the front right side of the palace has a large open atrium, while the back right side houses the triclinium and garden, where magisters can stand or lounge on couches, while they mingle and drink wine.

I have my greatsword strapped to my back with my arms clasped in front of me, as I stand by my master’s side inside the palace. Even though my eyes are usually downcast, when I act as a bodyguard, my eyes are constantly darting around the room trying to recognize any danger. I am my master’s eyes and ears. My master goes up to the Archon’s throne to pay him his respect, and discuss the latest decision made by the Magisterium. I stand back to wait for him with the other bodyguards.  Danarius finishes his discussion with the Archon and goes to to start mingling amongst the other magisters in the garden. A young woman with shoulder-length black hair and blue eyes comes up to Danarius and he nods at her.

“Leto, this is my apprentice Hadriana. You will obey her orders as my own,” Danarius commands.

“Of course, my master,” I reply, lowering my eyes in deference to him.

 

Hadriana is almost as ruthless as my master and maybe even more so because she isn’t yet a full-fledged magister yet but still an apprentice. She is from the Laetan class, which means her family never had the ability to speak to the Old Gods, like the Dreamers did of the upper Altus class. Because of this, she always has a bit of a chip on her shoulder. She is willing to do whatever it takes to get what she wants, even if that means screwing everyone of a lower in rank than her. In fact, I’m certain that she loved torturing me especially because I was my master’s favorite slave. She might’ve even slept with Danarius if she thought it would get her anywhere. Unfortunately for her, Danarius only liked to play with boys, especially elves. I knew she had already slept her way through many of the other members of the Magisterium to get an introduction to him and become his apprentice.

Over the next six years, that bitch made my life a living hell by torturing me. Her favorite tactic to control me was to deprive me of food and sleep by sending me on long errands or tasks with no solution, and then punishing me when I didn’t complete them satisfactorily or quick enough. There was that time when she sent me to the market for apricots in the middle of winter, knowing they are only in season in Minrathous between Ferventis and Matrinalis, the sixth and eight months of the year. When I was unable to bring her any, she had me whipped until my back was bloody, while she watched to make sure I didn’t cry out or I would’ve been whipped even harder. She used me for target practice to focus her ice spells. She would set up a target behind me, intentionally missing it to hit me with a spike of ice that felt like a thousand tiny needles puncturing my skin. Another favorite demand of hers was making me hold a lamp up over her head long into the night so that she could study her magic texts. Needless to say, I hated her with all of my being for making my life miserable but was never allowed to lift a finger against her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: Idea for palace taken from: http://www.visitsplit.com/en/2724/lego-dioklecijanove-palace and Tevinter Mages pic for Danarius’ robe: http://dragonage.wikia.com/wiki/Mage . 
> 
> This chapter is short, but the next one will be one of the longest.


	5. The Branding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hadriana discovers a new way for Danarius to grow powerful, and Danarius holds a contest to see who will win it. My recreation of the infamous lyrium branding.

Four years after Hadriana first came into our master’s home as an apprentice, she made her most important advancement towards finally becoming a magister. She found it in a dusty ancient tome at the Circle of Magi one afternoon, while she was researching ancient Tevinter techniques for increasing magical abilities for Danarius, an errand he was sending her on frequently in the last few months. What Hadriana had discovered was a Dwarven technique used by the ancient Magisters, which had been abandoned  about five hundred years earlier in the Black Age. It brands a subject’s body with lyrium in order for the magister to draw power from it.

Danarius latches on to the idea almost immediately and decides to hold a contest among his slaves and those of his fellow magisters to see who will receive the branding and what their reward would be for winning the competition. Danarius makes the whole thing into a party for his fellow magisters, who bring some extra slaves to compete for the honor. The back garden is transformed into a mini Proving Arena with grandstands set in a circular pattern. A twenty-four year old elven slave named Quintus, who was one of my master’s litter bearers, wanted it as badly as I did. I believe he was my master’s favorite before I arrived at the villa, and he was looking to get back into Danarius’ good graces. The fighting is between him, me and fourteen other slaves, in barefisted combat to see who would be chosen. The first to get a knockout against his opponent would move to the next round. By the time I finish the fourth and final round, my left eye is swollen shut, my lip is split, and I’m fairly certain I have a bruised rib or two.

  
The final battle is down to Quintus and myself. He is beaten up about as badly as me, though it must have been internal, as I couldn’t see any exterior wounds minus a few cuts and bruises. As we prepared to fight, I remember the deep breathing techniques that Cato had taught me when I first started sword training. This helps calm me down and put Quintus and my surroundings into perspective, so I can fight him and not worry about the jeering crowd of magisters and fellow slaves.

I can see my mother, Livia, and my sister, Varania, looking anxious out of the corner of my eye as I prepare for my final fight. I knew what I would ask for if I win. I want to get them out of this life. My mother is getting worn out from the day in and day out tedium and she is starting to go blind from sewing by hand in candlelight. I am also aware of the steward of the house’s obsession with my eighteen-year old sister, as he likes to corner her in the dark hallway between the kitchen and triclinium when he thinks no one is watching and grope her.  

I know Quintus must be as tired as me, as he is four years older than me, and I want to end this as quickly as possible. Quintus throws the first punch aiming for my head, but I quickly duck out of his way and aim a punch for his side, which he also ducks. My next punch is lightning fast and I hit him in the kidneys on the left side, followed by one right upper cut on his solar plexus. He collapses to the ground completely winded and clutching his side. After a few minutes, he manages to stagger to his feet but I punch him straight on the nose and then use an uppercut under the chin. He immediately falls down and does not get back up again. While he lies bleeding on the ground, another slave that is acting as a healer comes up to check he is still breathing. He, thank the Maker, is and I am declared the winner.

I ran over to where my mother and sister are standing and give them a hug, all of us jumping up and down, as I am filled with adrenaline from the fight and I know they are happy I am alright. My master has a proud smile on his face, as he saunters over to where we are standing. We quickly separate and stand in our customary resting position with head bowed.

“Well done, Leto. I had a feeling you would win,” Danarius told me grandly. “Now, what would you like as a reward for winning the fight?” he asks, eyebrows raised in question.

“Master, I would like my mother and sister to be freed,” I replied.

“It shall be done. Head to the healer and go to the baths to get cleaned up,” he instructs. “We will do the branding in a few hours.”

“Yes, Master,” I say. I go to tell my mother and sister the good news and they cry, hugging me in their joy.

“You have done well, my son,” whispers my mother in my ear, as she stretches up to kiss my forehead.

I go to the healer and get myself patched up before heading to the bath for a well-earned soak. As it is the middle of the day, there are almost no slaves around as everyone is working, so I pretty much have the caldarium to myself. The water stings as I sink into the water, but instantly makes my tired muscles relax. After a quick soak, I go to the massage room where the bath slaves scrape me with the strigil and oil, this time it smarts a bit due to the bruising from the earlier fights. The bergamot oil is placed on my skin and rubbed in, and I love the crisp smell of the citrus fruit.

 

A few hours later, I am walking back into the atrium of Danarius’ villa. My mother and sister are gathering their few meager possessions when I walk back into the slave quarters. Everything is happening so fast. I give them both a hug and my mother promises that we will see each other in the future. I can’t read or write, slaves are not allowed to, so she will send word through the kitchen slaves in the boarding house about where they have settled. I nod and they leave. Little do I know at the time that I won’t ever see my mother again.

My master Denarius needs to go to the Ambassadoria to see if he can find a dwarf in the Merchant’s Guild knowledgeable enough in lyrium handling to do the actual branding. After several hours of searching and haggling for price, my master manages to procure an older dwarf named Aldred. Hadriana gives Aldred all the information she had on the procedure and he mentions that he once saw a text in the Archives of the Ambassadoria on the subject, so she accompanies him to pick it up. They return with the book and give it to my master to peruse before Aldred starts the ritual. There is an illustration in the Dwarven book entitled simply _Isana_ , their word for lyrium or the “Singing Stone”, that shows how the lyrium brands can be applied. My master demands that we do it just as the book demonstrates. I carry a small table into one of the empty rooms in my master’s villa next to the slaves’ rooms that is used for their punishment. It has two chains attached to the ceiling and two to the floor, so that the slave can be stretched out in order to whipping.

“Strip off all your clothes, Leto and stand with your feet apart,” my master commands, and I move quickly to do what he asks. “This is a reward for being the strongest and most capable warrior in my house,” he announces grandly, his arms outstretched and a wide grin on his face.

“Yes Master,” I reply, assuming the position as two other slaves come in to fasten the cuffs on my wrists and ankles.

Since dwarves have no magic or access to the Fade, Hadriana is assisting the branding by saying the spell associated with the ritual, in order to activate the brands on my skin, which she found in the Tevinter text. Aldred takes the lyrium tipped dagger in his right hand and says “Valos Atredum” and starts lowering it to my back, drawing the lyrium in swirling patterns on my skin. As soon as the blade starts creating the design on my flesh, a jolt of pain vibrates through my entire body and I am straining not to make any noises. My flesh feels like it is on fire all over from the hairs on my head down to my toenails. It’s like a nervous energy is running right under my skin. I have never felt pain like this before in my life and it radiates through my body without stopping.

When Aldred gets to my lower back, backside, and legs, I can’t hold back anymore and start screaming from the pain. I am struggling in my chains and black out before Hadriana has to stop and throw a sleep spell at me. I hate the feel of her magic on me, so it is a mercy for both of us. The next eight hours are a bit of a blur as I wake up, feel the pain coursing through my body, my heart starts beating out of my chest and I start screaming. I’m conscious for about ten more minutes before passing out again.

 

After Aldred and Hadriana are done with the ritual, they unchain my legs and I slump forward almost on my knees, unable to support my own body weight because of the pain. They leave me there for the night and I am dead to the world. At dawn’s first light, a bucket of water is tossed on me and I wake up suddenly, legs flailing as I struggle to get to my feet. My master is standing before me looking very pleased.

 “Would you like to see yourself?” he asks me with a smirk on his face.

 “Yes master,” I answer slowly, as my brain has not quite caught up with the rest of my body.

Two other slaves bring in a full-length mirror and I immediately see the change in my appearance. My whole body is now covered with a swirling white design from the bottom of my chin, down my neck to my chest, around my sides, circling around my cock, and all the way down to the tops of my feet. The slaves move the mirror slightly to the side and I can see the lines going from the base of my neck down my arms to my back, rear end, and legs. The marks follow the lines of my body and outline my definition from years of sword and combat training. The other big thing I notice is my hair. It used to be a rich chocolate brown but the lyrium branding appears to have turned it completely white. Maybe from the shock on my system, I can’t even begin to understand.

“Now watch this,” my master says gleefully, an emotion I don’t think I’ve ever seen in his eyes before. He touches my side and suddenly the slightly darkened room is illuminated by a bright blue light emanating from my skin. “This will help me draw power from you, as well as make you more powerful and strong. There was even an illustration in the Tevinter text of the bearer of the brands being able to rip a person’s heart out of their chest. We will definitely be trying that out in the future,” Danarius proudly remarks, with an amused look on his face.

“Oh and there is one more thing. I have decided since I have reinvented your appearance, I will rename you as well. You will henceforth be known as Fenris, my little wolf,” my master commands.

_"This will definitely take some getting used to,”_ I think to myself. “Yes Master,” I reply as the two slaves carrying the mirror leave and then return to unchain my arms. They bring me a change of clothes and leave it on the table. I rub my wrists where they have been chafed by the metal cuffs and pull on the pair of pants they left for me. I don’t even remember my previous name or any personal history, just that this man is my master and I am his slave bodyguard.

  
“The Tevinter and Dwarven books explain that memory loss is common. You will also be brushing up on the sword fighting techniques you learned from Cato previously. I want you to be at your best before I decide to go anywhere with you,” Danarius dictates to me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: I’ve never written a fistfight before, so got some help from https://www.wattpad.com/3596338-yuffie%27s-writing-how-to%27s-how-to-write-physical and http://www.wikihow.com/Knock-out-Someone-in-One-Punch. 
> 
> Valos Atredum = “The favor of the ancestors” or “The ancestor’s blessing”
> 
> This chapter took me forever to finish, so I am very curious to know what you think of it. I know the present/past tense maybe a little off but I've tried to correct that as best I can.


	6. Seheron

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fenris, Danarius and Hadriana finally go to Seheron

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! Personal life getting crazy again, but I'm back into the story, so hope to be working on it more now.

It did not take me long to remember the weapon training and fighting skills, which I learned before receiving the lyrium marks on my body. I was able to channel the power in the lyrium to make myself a stronger and more confident warrior. It was much easier to handle the greatsword once the lyrium had been activated, and I found I was able to move swifter and attack more ferociously as well. This was to be of great importance about a year afterwards, when my master took me to Seheron. The island had always sounded like a faraway land where I knew things were happening but were never of any interest to me. Of course Cato had discussed fighting against the Qunari whenever we took a break from fighting, and the Tevinter people had been fighting against them for over eighty years, with no sign of slowing. I ended up going there completely by accident.

I am accompanying my master, Danarius, and Hadriana to the humid jungles of Seheron - it was just decided this week. The island has always been a point of contention between the Vints and the Qunaris, with both sides claiming it for their own. The Tevinter architecture still lingers here, even though it has been out of their control for years. It is rumored that the griffons used by the Grey Wardens came from the island, and I learned years later that I was also born there after hearing about the large population of freed elven slaves living on it.

Danarius and Hadriana had been invited by the Siccari, the secret guild of Tevinter assassins, to assist in the war efforts. Danarius thought it would be good for his apprentice and I to have first-hand experience fighting the enemies of the Imperium in a real combat experience. So we set forth from Minrathous on a ship for the Vint-occupied city of Alam, which thankfully was only a two day trip across the Nocen Sea. I was highly amused that Hadriana could not handle the rocking motion of the ship and was pale-faced and vomiting over the side pretty much the entire time. Of course a smile never crossed my face in her presence.

Danarius and his apprentice both specialize in ice magic, a valuable skill to have in battle, in order to halt an army’s progress and divide them. In no time at all, the three of us are behind the front lines, encamped outside of Alam when we see the first _Ashaad_ hiding in the bushes next to the second row of tents. I unsheathe my broadsword and stand in front of my master. Tevinter scouts quickly find a platoon of thirty-five Qunari warriors with ten _Karataam_ , in a camp not far from us. Once they see us, they grab their weapons and rush towards us screaming _Ataash!_ I bob and weave around their swords before planting my feet and swinging my greatsword towards a warrior’s torso. The metal of his two-handed sword reverberates off mine, and we spend the next few minutes grappling with our swords, each trying to use our body weight to push each other off balance. The Qunari is definitely bigger than me but I am faster. I quickly stepped backwards, and he comes stumbling forward in surprise and I whipped my sword and stabbed him in the left back, near the kidneys. He collapses to the ground clutching his side, blood swelling up around his fingers. While he is not looking, I do a quick strike to his neck severing it from his body. His blood squirts up like a fountain, drenching my right side. I move on to the next kill until my master, Hadriana and I have killed all the half the party. The rest of the Tevinter camp finishes off the rest of the _Karataam,_ and we head back to our camp to get cleaned up and rest.

Seheron not only had Qunari fighting against the Imperium but also some native guerilla fighters nicknamed the ‘Fog Warriors’. They looked like a smaller version of the massive Qunaris, and with smaller horns that were close to their heads. They were called ‘Fog Warriors’ because of their ability to come in and out of the fog that naturally blanketed the island, due to the humidity, striking without warning as they glided in and out of the shadows. They accomplished this, I later learned, by building a complex series of tunnels underneath the surface of the island. This allowed them to easily cross from one side of the island to the other without coming above ground. They wanted to free Seheron from both Qunari and Tevinter control.

I first came in contact with the Fog Warriors about three months after arriving on the island, when a group of them struck our camp in the middle of the night and disappeared without a trace, after killing all the sentries on duty. Hadriana was spooked, though she would never admit it out loud. It was after then that we attempted to track them. While doing so, they came out of nowhere and attacked us. I was injured with a long sword strike down my back. The other Tevinters forced my master to leave me for dead, dragging him off the field as he yelled about “Losing my prized possession!”. I thought I would not survive the day as I blacked out face down on the ground.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ashaad = scout, Karataam = group of mages and their handlers, Aatash = Glory; Material taken from http://dragonage.wikia.com/wiki/Fog_Warriors and http://dragonage.wikia.com/wiki/Codex_entry:_Battleground_State.


	7. The Healer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fenris is rescued by the Fog Warriors and learns to trust.

I came to a few hours later on a stretcher and someone was cleaning my wound and spreading a poultice on it to numb the pain and heal it. I try to turn my head to see who is assisting me but my back spasms and I cry out in pain.

“Stop wiggling or this is going to hurt a lot more,” a female voice says to me.

“Who are you and why are you helping me?” I ask tentatively.

“My name is Asaara, and I am the healer of the Fog Warriors,” she says quietly.

I gasp, and try to move away from her. She pushes my shoulders down, and continues forcefully: “Whenever I finish, you may feel free to gaze upon me or escape or whatever else you wish. But until then, hold still!”

I reluctantly obey and put my head on my arms and lay back down. Eventually I drift off to sleep and when I wake up, she has placed a bowl of stew by my head. I look down at it questioningly, and Asaara speaks up, “Go ahead and eat. I promise I didn’t poison it.” She comes towards me and I scramble off my back and sit up with my legs crossed, my brands instantly lighting up. “See?” she says, leaning into my bowl, picking up the spoon inside of it and taking a bite. “Poison free.”  

I reach forward and grab the offered bowl and spoon. I tuck in, cleaning up the bowl in mere minutes. It is rich and meaty, with chunks of potatoes and what I can only guess is nug or halla meat. “Could I have some more master?” I ask hesitantly.

“I’m not your master, but I can tell from your accent and demeanor that you must be a Tevinter slave,” Asaara replies shortly, her temper briefly flaring up and then receding. “We are all free here in this camp. You are no one’s property.”

I am at a loss for what to say. I have never experienced anything this in my short twenty-two years. Someone who didn’t want anything, who wasn’t out for themselves and just wanted to help. “My name is Fenris,” I volunteer, not quite looking at her. “Why...Why did you help me? Aren’t I supposed to be your enemy?”

"Yes, but I couldn’t just leave you there unconscious on the field. I am healer, it is my job to tend to the wounded. I was watching you for a bit before you were prematurely cut down by one of our warriors. You were a sight to behold. I haven’t seen such ferocity in awhile...I will admit that I was intrigued as to the reason why,” Asaara honestly comments. I can sense no sarcasm in her tone and so I let my guard down a bit, and my brands stop glowing. “Why does your skin light up like that?”she asks as an afterthought.

“My master, Danarius, gave me the brands. They are to enhance his magical abilities and my fighting prowess,” I say, looking her in the eye and daring her to comment.

“Were they painful to receive?” she asks timidly, unsure if she wants to know the answer.

“Yes,” I respond with a sigh. “It was the first thing I remember after I received the markings, and it was unlike anything I have experienced before or since. Like fire scorching out every thought I’ve ever had…” I drift off into silence after that, unwilling to talk about it further.

“Well...If you’re going to stay with us, you will need to earn your keep. Rest tonight and in the morning, I will introduce you to the rest of our camp,” she instructs me, and I lay my head down, the sleep suddenly overwhelming me.

The next morning, I wake up to see a whole group of Fog Warriors milling around, getting ready for the day. Asaara sees that I am awake and brings me a bowl of porridge with some berries in it. “I’d like you start helping around the camp if you are able,” she politely asks with a smile.

“Of course,” I agree, “What should I do first?”

“You could help our warriors train the new recruits and teach them some two-handed sword techniques,” she offers.

And so I start helping the Fog Warriors. Asaara stops everyone before I get started and introduces me to the camp, and they are guarded but not nearly as much as I would be in their situation. I am very surprised by their reaction, but try to put it out of mind to concentrate on the task at hand. I demonstrate to their new recruits how to observe their surroundings and use it to their advantage, how to position their body so they don’t overbalance with the heaviness of the blade, how to strike accurately, and other combat techniques that I have learned. I enjoy the work as I get to share my expertise with others, and no one forces me to do anything. In return, they tell me a little more about the history of the island and their fight for freedom. They teach me about the principles of the Qun and the Qunlat language. While the Fog Warriors aren’t part of the Qun, their ancestors once belonged and the traditions are still passed down from generation to generation. These people live by their strength and honor, two things I hold above all else, and so easily fall into a camaraderie with them during my stay with their people.


	8. A Slave Once More

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After staying with the Fog Warriors for ten months, Fenris finally sees his master Danarius again and stuff happens.

It feels a bit weird to not have a master. I have never been my own person, doing things that I want to do, and not whatever I was told to do. I was born a slave and I always thought I would die one. It is certainly freeing but also a bit disconcerting. It took me awhile to trust the Fog Warriors enough to share anything of myself, but once I did, I was free with my affections and attention. They became my second family and I fought alongside them, and their enemies became my own. I too wanted the freedom from the oppression of the Qunari and the Tevinters who had occupied the island for far too long, in their petty squabble for power and domination.

Sadly, this was not to be. After spending a year with them, my master Danarius eventually came back for me. The Fog Warriors were once again near the city of Alam, our hunting party was hiding behind a clump of Carnauba palm trees and bougainvillea, when I spied him across the clearing. I had not thought of Danarius in ten months, and even just the sight of him was enough to make my blood run cold. I stare just a little too long and even the camouflage of the pale white paint isn’t enough to hide me from his gaze. He and his squad of ten Tevinter soldiers come at us, quickly surrounding the party. 

“We have you surrounded, Guerillas. Hand over the slave or we’ll murder all of you where you stand!” shouts Danarius at the hunting party.

Asaara, whose turn it was to join the six person hunt that day, shouts back at him, glancing briefly in my direction: “We are not afraid of you Vint! Fenris is one of our own now and we will not give him back.”

“Have it your way then. Kill them,” Danarius gestures towards the soldiers and they all start advancing on us. There is a brief scuffle and soon he cries out in pain, as one of the spear throwers in my group has sliced open his right calf. He slumps to the ground, and I pause unsure of what to do. He waves his hand and the feet of my party are frozen in place.

“I have finally found you, my Little Wolf. Come here to me, and help me up, ” Danarius says with authority, lording over me even sprawled on the ground, and points to the space in front of him

I suddenly felt like I had never stopped being a slave, and the compulsion to obey is unavoidable. I sheathe my sword and kneel down in front of him, pulling his left arm up over my shoulders to stand him upright and lean him against a large boulder nearby. I assume the slave position with my hands clasped behind my back and head down. “Yes, Master,” I quietly reply.

“I want you to kill all the members of this hunting party and then go to the main camp and kill them,” he declares, turning on his heel to walk back to the encampment. “Worthless guerillas, I will be glad to be rid of them,” he mutters to himself in disgust.

And I do not hesitate to obey. My eyes gloss over and I go into almost a trance-like state as I rush at my former friends and adopted family and cut all down except for Asaari, who runs toward the main Fog Warrior camp screaming “ _ Katari _ !” towards the tents. I catch up with her right outside the and behead her before she can reach them, her eyes rolling up into the back of her head. I slaughter every last man, woman, and child, and then set fire to the tents. I do not look back at the camp, as I walk away from the carnage.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Katari = “One who brings death!”


	9. On the Run

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fenris decides what he wants to do after Seheron...And meets Hawke for the first time in Kirkwall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay, I am doing this in chunks as I have time.

It is, however, this mindless act that is the last straw. I am following behind my master and the soldiers, when somehow I am finally able to break the hold my master has over me. I think to myself: _How could I murder these people, who sheltered and took care of me for a nearly a year? Am I that heartless and unfeeling?  Will I ever be able to live with myself?_ I look down at my hands and body, completely covered with their blood, minutes after I perpetrate the last action asked of me by my master and say out loud: “I can take no more of this!”, and veer away from my master’s camp and towards the Qunari camp. I can hear them shouting at me from behind to stop, but I use the techniques I learned from my time with the Fog Warriors to blend in with my surroundings and am soon lost to sight. My first stop is at a stream where I wash off the blood of the fallen warriors off my body and armor the best I can. With my limited knowledge of Qunlat, I manage to make it to a Qunari camp and book passage to the Rivaini city of Kont-Arr.

I just want to get as far away from Seheron, my master, and the Tevinter Imperium as I possibly can. I know this is next to impossible, knowing the length at which Danarius will go to get me back. When I arrive in Kont-Arr, I work on the docks for a few weeks before joining a mercenary raiding crew and spend the next three years on the run. I never stay in one place for long and I have been all over Rivain, Antiva, Orlais, and the Free Marches. I’m always looking over my shoulder and frequently dodging the Tevinter slavers my master Danarius has sent after me. He cannot let me, his investment, go free. I am too valuable to him.

I decide early on, that in addition to running, I will make it my mission to destroy all slavers and their operations. No one should have to go through what I went through. I had heard about a group of slavers in Kirkwall, and made it my mission to put them out of business. I enlist the help of a newly arrived dwarf from Orzammar, a skittish creature called Anso, to hire some people to help me. He puts in a good word with the local mercenary community and a group of four of them go into the house that the slavers had set up in the Alienage. I arrive about five minutes later to find that they have slaughtered all the Vints, with the exception of a slaver captain who was lingering out of the way with a small detachment of men, to launch another surprise attack. 

I stalk towards him, slowly walking around him. I spit in disgust at his feet and say with a sneer, “Your plan has failed and your men are dead. I suggest running back to your master while you still can.”

The slaver put his hand on my shoulder, trying to turn me around forcefully, and declares: “You’re going nowhere, slave!”

He is quickly silenced as I thrust my gauntleted hand through his chest, crushing his heart in my hands and tossing his lifeless body onto the ground.

I turn around slowly and stare at the group of mercenaries facing me, affirming out loud that “I am not a slave,” as I look directly into their leader’s eyes as if challenging them. I am a bit startled to notice that the leader is a woman and she has stunning blue eyes and flawless ivory skin. I recover quickly and tell them, “I apologize. When I asked Anso to provide a distraction, I had no idea they’d be so numerous.”  

“You were responsible for this?” she queries, gesturing around to the corpses that surround us.

I can’t look her in the face, so I face away, answering “I’m the reason you’re here, yes.” I finally turn around and continue, “My name is Fenris. These men were Imperial bounty hunters, sent to retrieve a magister’s lost property...namely myself. They were trying to lure me out into the open, and I couldn’t do this alone, hence why I asked for Anso’s help. I’m glad he chose wisely.”

“My name is Alya Hawke, but everyone calls me Hawke. This knobhead is my brother Carver,” and her brother yells “Hey!” rather indignantly and scowls at her,  “And the other one is the great Varric Tethras.” Varric takes a graceful bow and lifts his head with a large grin on his face. “So everything Anso said was a lie, then?” the young woman continues without missing a beat.

“Not everything...your employer was simply not who you thought it was,” I replied shortly.

“I’m guessing you’re not an ordinary slave. Does it have something to do with those markings?” Hawke tilts her head to one side, observing me like a bird would, curious and without rancor.

“Yes, I’m sure they must look strange to you,” I answer raising my arms. “I did not receive them by choice, but they have served me well in my escape from slavery.”

“Anso’s job did seem a little too easy, and nothing is ever easy or what it seems in Kirkwall,” she responds dejectedly, shaking her head in disappointment like she’s been through this one too many times.

I look at her beneath my fringe of white hair, calculating what I should say next. Even though I have had a few sexual encounters since I left Danarius, I am still wary around women. I take a chance by saying, “Perhaps the deception was unnecessary. If so, I am sorry. I have become too used to hiding.”

“Is this all this job was about?” she asks.

I don’t answer right away, but instead go rifling through the dead captain’s pockets and find what I’m looking for, the address to a mansion in the area of Kirkwall known as Hightown. “No, it seems my former master is in town with them. I know you have questions, but I need to catch him before he flees, and I will need your help again.”

She warily asks me, “It seems you want to do more than just talk.”

“Danarius wants to strip the flesh from my bones and has sent so many slave hunters after me that I have lost count,” I say and it impossible to keep the revulsion out of my voice as I think back to that day in Seheron three years before. “And before that, he kept me on a leash like a Qunari mage, a personal pet to mock Qunari custom.” My features harden and my fists clench themselves unconsciously as I continue, “So yes, I intend to do more than just talk.”

The young woman laughs and says sarcastically, “Well it looks like it’s going to be a long night. Let’s get to it then,” and off we go to Hightown.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The speaking parts were taken directly from the game, so thank you Bioware for writing awesome dialogue, but also they are rather important to understanding Fenris and his relationship with Hawke from the start.


	10. Danarius' Mansion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fenris, Hawke, Varric and Carver head to Danarius' mansion to fight the magister, and then Fenris reacts to learning Hawke is a mage.

On the way to to Danarius’ mansion I have a bit more time to study the group, and they are a motley crew. The leader of the group is a petite short-haired redhead with the aforementioned blue eyes that always seem be smiling even when she appears serious. Her brother, who looks a few years younger, has black hair and the same color eyes (though his look harder like he has been through a lot more). Finishing up the group is the strawberry blond haired dwarf with an impressive amount of chest hair. I am drawn quickly out of my observation of them by a question from Hawke. 

“So I could stand to learn a little bit more about this Danarius, as we are going to his house to possibly murder him,” she pointedly says.

“He is a Magister of the Tevinter Imperium,” I explained first and I can hear the dark haired guy mumbling, “Oh great another bloody mage.” 

“Oh is that all? So nothing to worry about then,” says Varric nervously laughing. 

I continue as if there were no interruptions. “There he is a wealthy mage with great influence. Here he is a man like any other.”

Hawke shrugs her shoulders and responds, “Well, what’s the worst that could happen?” 

I turn my head in a circle, popping my neck, and look right at her. “I don’t fear death. But I would exercise caution anyways, we should not be reckless.” 

 

We enter the house and work our way room to room, destroying shades and other demons that have taken up residence to guard the house from intrusion. We get all the way up to the master bedroom before I realize Danarius is not there. I need a moment to myself and leave the house first to gather my thoughts.  _ Fasta vass _ , I mutter under my breath.  _ Will I never be free of this magister?  _

I look up at the rest of the party as they come out of the house and just then realize that this entire time I have been working with another mage. “I escaped a land of dark magic, only to have it haunt me at every turn. And now I find myself in the company of another mage!” I turn my head quickly and look right at Hawke, my eyes narrowing. I walk over to her quickly and point my finger at her. “I saw you casting spells inside. I should’ve realized sooner what you really were!” I circle around her, examining her closely, while I continue: “What kind of mage are you?”

“And spoil all the fun?” she sarcastically responds. 

“You are skilled - that much I can tell,” I say, the vehemence leaving my voice a little. 

“Hey now!” Carver interrupts. “If you have a problem with my sister, you have a problem with me. 

I am a bit taken aback by his ferocity, and stop to look down at my feet before lifting them and continuing: “I imagine I appear ungrateful. If so, I apologize, for nothing could be further from the truth...I did not find Danarius, but I still owe you a debt. Here is all the coin I have, as Anso originally promised.” I hand her over about twenty gold sovereigns. I start to walk away before adding quietly: “Should you find yourself in need of assistance, I would gladly render it.” 

Her eyebrows perk up at this and she wryly tells me, “You weren’t so eager to help me a moment ago.”

“True,” I respond turning back towards her, “but you are not Danarius. Whether you are anything like him remains to be seen.” I’m not a hundred percent sure I can trust her, but there’s something about her that makes me want to trust her against my better judgment. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, most of the dialogue is taken directly from the game, and therefore owned by Bioware.


	11. Getting to Know Her

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fenris getting to know Hawke and sorting out his early feelings for her.

And that is how I started to tag along with Hawke and her companions on her missions in and around Kirkwall, helping the humans, elves and dwarves that live in that wretched city. I took up residence in Danarius’ mansion. It wasn’t really his but a Tevinter merchant’s house, but I knew one day I would see him again. In the meantime, the mansion gave me a roof over my head and a place to rest that wasn’t out in the open on the cold hard ground; even if it was littered with the dead bodies of my enemies. It also gave me a place where I could drink my wine in peace and think about Hawke.

I meant to get her out of my head, she is, after all, another one of those mages, the ones I had worked so hard to get away from. But she is somehow different. When we were standing outside of the mansion that first time a couple months ago, after defeating all the spirits inside, she asks about my lyrium brands.  I could detect no malice in her question, only genuine curiosity. I replied that “They were branded on me against my will and Danarius would rather destroy me than allow me to be used by any other mage.”  

“Seems like a waste of a perfectly handsome elf”, she responded, winking at me and daring me to say otherwise.

I was at a complete loss for words and could only splutter and weakly laugh. And so I sit here alone in my mansion with only a fire for company and a couple bottles of Agreggio Pavali, a wine I once served to Danarius’ guests, which I have developed a taste for since I’ve been in Kirkwall the past eight months.

 

Hawke and I have managed to develop a tenuous friendship, I think predominantly because I can handle myself so well in the battles we always seem to find ourselves in, and probably also because she doesn’t want her baby brother following her everywhere, but needs a good warrior in the group. Lately, instead of going to the Hanged Man with Isabela, Varric, and the others, she will come to my house and we will sit and chat about whatever is on our minds. I remember the first time she came to visit, shortly after we defeated the spirits in Danarius’ mansion and I had moved in. She complimented me on how I looked, saying she couldn’t imagine “why people would be scared of me.”

“You say what’s on your mind, I’ll give you that,” I reply with a half-smile on my face. I’m still not a hundred percent sure how to take compliments, and hearing them from such a beautiful strong woman is something else. Then I laugh my nervous laugh and try to redecorate the walls with a half-full bottle of Pavali. I don’t know what to do with my hands and end up crossing them over my chest. I change the subject from Danarius and my past again, instead asking her “Have you never wanted to return to Ferelden?”

She takes a minute to respond, slowly saying, “I have no home to return to.”

“But you could rebuild what was lost. Do you truly not want to?” I retort quickly.

She mumbles something about her mother being from here and so it made sense to return here.

I completely understand having someplace “to put down roots,” as I have never experienced that before in anywhere I have lived, but living here, I have wanted to do so. 

She looks down, then looks up through her lashes, shyly asking me, “Do you want to continue living here?”

I’m not sure how to respond to that. I almost feel like there is some ulterior reason for her asking me this question, but I am tired and honestly respond “I don’t know, I haven’t decided quite yet. For now, it’s as good a place as any. I would return to Seheron if I could, but there is no life for me there.”

“Is that where you’re from?” she asks curiously.

“So I’ve been told,” I reply noncommittally.

“Were you very young when you left then?” she enquires.

“Perhaps,” I say shortly, not willing or able to say anything else.

She asks about finding Danarius and I tell her I will “wait till he leaves his fortress of strength in Minranthous. There he has friends and influence. There he is invulnerable.”

I continue, feeling exhausted but also having the need to tell someone, anyone, my story. “I have been on the run over three years now. But this is the first time I’ve had people to back me up, people of substance anyways, like you. But I will not wait for him forever. Eventually I might have to take the fight to him.”

She agrees with me, saying that is the right way to handle things. But then she does something I am not expecting. She says, “It sounds like you might have a reason to stay here.”

I look right into her eyes, and reply, “I could see myself staying...for the right reasons.” I felt like that thought just hung in the air for a few minutes before anyone can speak, and then I rapidly change the subject again, thanking her for taking care of those slave hunters that night in Lowtown and promising “to practice my flattery for the next time she arrives.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to Bioware and their awesome dialogue.

**Author's Note:**

> Title came from https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iRyb-RyQ1Ko - which is awesome btw if you love Fen Fen and unfinished DA stuff. The source material was borrowed heavily from http://dragonage.wikia.com/wiki/Minrathous. I feel like Minrathous is essentially ancient Rome, with all the excesses that involves (plus blood magic), but with a semi-tropical climate like the Southeastern US (aka lots of humidity and hardly any cold weather).


End file.
